


Road Trip!

by paintitb1ack



Series: Liberated [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Possession, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s11e09 O Brother Where Art Thou, M/M, Murder, Possession, Post-Episode: s11e09 O Brother Where Art Thou, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintitb1ack/pseuds/paintitb1ack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer is back, crossing the country in a '67 Impala, with Sam Winchester in the passenger's seat.<br/>Before taking on Amara, the fallen angel intends to have a little bit of fun.<br/>Sex? Check. Murder? Check. Torturing Sam until he breaks? You bet your ass.<br/>Back at the bunker, Dean and Castiel regroup and begin tracking Lucifer down. If they manage to stop The Darkness, well, good for them. But Sam is their number one priority right now, God's sister be damned.<br/>Now, if only they can find him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Déjà vu.

_Oh, hey look, it's not even that bad, it's not even that bad, alright?_

_Sammy---_

_Sam!_

_Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up, okay?_

_You'll be as good as new, huh?_

_I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to take care of you!_

_I gotcha._

_It's my job, right, watch after my pain-in-the-ass little brother?_

_Sam?_

_Sam._

_Sam!_

 

**_Sammy!_ **

 

Sam jolts awake, head pounding. A grimace twisting his features, he looks around, immediately surprised to find himself on the floor of his bedroom, with Dean leaning over him.

“You alright there, kiddo?”

Sam takes his brother’s hand and gets to his feet. “Yeah…” he says slowly. “Yeah, I don’t… How did I get here?”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Here,” the younger Winchester repeats. “In the bunker. I was someplace else. I was…” He shakes his head in tired annoyance. “I can’t--- I don’t remember.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean purses his lips and gives a slight shrug. “That’s probably because you’re still a bit unconscious.”

Sam’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth, the small tick for some reason like needles beneath his skin. “Unconscious?” He takes a step back, calves pressing against the side of his bed. “What do you--- what do you mean, unconscious?"

“You know what?” Dean rubs at his chin. “We should probably talk.” Then he takes a single step forward and slams his fist across his little brother’s face.

A blackness bursts through Sam's vision, and he opens his mouth to shout in surprise, but no words come out.

Something bangs harshly against the side of his head, or at least he thinks it’s his head; his entire body seems to shake from the impact.

“Come on, sweetheart; we don’t have all day.”

The voice is accompanied by two more raps against his skull, and finally his eyes begin to clear.

He blinks, the roar of the Impala exploding in his ears as he catches a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror.

But it’s not him.

It’s his body, his hair, his harsh, green eyes, but it’s not him.

He’s been possessed enough times to know exactly what it feels like, and this is it.

Nausea rises in his stomach and he tries to speak, mouth moving unbelievable fast, but with absolutely no sound.

His captor frowns. “Sorry. Forgot I had you on mute. Hold on.” He snaps his fingers, and Sam exhales, finally able to catch his breath.

Fear courses through him as he tries to think back, tries to recall how he got here, how he was possessed, who is possessing him.

He gives himself a prompting look in the mirror. “Go ahead.”

“What’s going on?” The boy asks quietly, and he feels his brow furrow.

“You don’t remember?” His voice replies.

Sam swallows hard. His chest heaves a sigh.

“Yeah, a bit of amnesia isn’t that uncommon.” He bites at his lip, slowing their pace so that he can put more of his focus on Sam. “Here. Let me show you.”

He snaps his fingers again and Sam gasps, breath stolen from him once more as he is thrust back in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't ever written something where someone is possessed, so it'll take me a little while to work through the kinks.  
> Thanks for bearing with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A closer look.

The sudden cold sears Sam’s skin.

**_Roomie._ **

His gaze flies towards the voice and immediately he sees

**_Upper bunk?_ **

he remembers

**_Lower bunk?_ **

he knows.

**_Or do you wanna share?_ **

His mind screams to be released but **He** won’t let him go.

He’s stuck here

_stuck here_

until this memory plays through.

_i can’t_

The scene before him flickers and suddenly he’s on the ground, on the ground and in pain, shoulder torn in two, and Dean, Dean is there.

_Dean_

**_Why find another mount when I can just ride Sam’s ass?_ **

_It’s on fast forward_

**His** fingers curl around Sam’s throat

_the moments deliberately chosen_

raise him up, up, up

_replaying the day’s greatest hits._

slam him against the metal bars.

Before Sam can even think to pull at the tightening grip, he’s back on the floor, wheezing, coughing, trying to find air.

Blue eyes stare down at him.

Sam clenches his jaw, straining, but the words come out anyway:

“I will _never_ say “yes” to you.”

 **He** smiles.

And suddenly **He’s** on him, biting, scratching, pulling at Sam’s skin, tongue sliding up the side of his neck, hands in his hair, fingers pulling at his belt,

_no_

unbuckling it,

_no no no_

slipping coarse digits beneath the waistband,

_please_

teasing at his

_STOP_

Sam calls out as he is thrown to the ground, no shirt, no pants, no nothing,

nothing to keep **Him** out, and he cries,

he cries and he cries and he cries,

big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as **He** settles behind him, already pressing against his ass, already with the belt gripped tight in his hand, the leather ready to tear into his skin, ready to rip him to shreds, ready to pull him apart,

and then **He’s** in.

 **He’s** in and Sam screams and **He** smiles because **He** likes that, **He** _loves_ that,

 **He** _loves_ it when Sam screams.

 **He** loves seeing his entire body shake in pain, in fear, in hopelessness.

And **He** loves seeing him slowly break apart,

piece by piece by piece,

until the only thing left is the look in **His** boy’s eyes,

the emeralds begging,

_kill me_

_kill me_

_kill me_

and **He** just laughs,

 **He** laughs and **He**  laughs and **He** laughs,

**_You’re mine_ **

**_You’re mine_ **

**_You’re mine_ **

**_and only_ ** **I** **_decide when you’re ready to die._ **

**He's** finally finished and  Sam climbs to his feet, spent, sweat and blood and **Him** sliding down his neck, his back, his legs, body crying in agony as he strains to put his pants on, to cover up, to retain himself.

**_Mine._ **

Through the bars, Castiel looks at him, looks at the failure, the slut,

the abomination

and, though he doesn’t deserve it, Sam pleads for the angel to help him.

_Save me!_

he screams,

but Cas does nothing.

He just hangs his head and apologizes.

He _apologizes_.

Sam screams again, screams without words, screams with anger and frustration and fear and pain because the world is falling down on him there’s nothing

_nothing_

he can do.

Cas and Dean turn away to talk, they turn away and they leave Sam alone, they leave Sam alone

with **Him.**

It takes all of five seconds for Sam to say “yes”.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Focus.

“Where the hell is my car?”

Dean is standing on the spot where he parked the Impala, arms outstretched. The cold air nips at his skin, but he pays no attention, choosing to ignore the impending shower in favor of finding out who took his Baby.

Billie laughs from her place in the doorway.

Dean turns slowly towards the reaper; it is taking everything in his power to keep from tearing the smug smile off of her face. “You got something you wanna share, princess?"

“Sam took off in it a few minutes ago.” She cocks her head. “Or was that Lucifer I saw in the front seat?”

Lip curling into a snarl, Dean starts towards her, fists at his side. To hell with remaining passive with her, to holding back so he can get information. It’d be so much more satisfying getting to rip her head off.

Billie rolls her eyes and sighs; she’s vanished before she can finish exhaling.

Dean stares at the place where she was, anger nowhere to go. Tears have threatened to fall since the moment Sam was taken from him, and he hates that,  _ God _ how he hates that. Loathe though he is to admit it, he is absolutely terrified, more than he has been in his entire life. Over the past five years, there have been many things to be afraid of, many  _ people _ to be afraid  _ for _ . But this is different.

This is _Lucifer_.

Dean knows now a good deal of what went on in The Cage, what was done to Sam in there, and just the fact that it could happen again, that it could all happen again....

It's too much.

_ You didn’t. _

**_We most certainly did._ **

_ You  _ raped  _ him? You  _ raped  _ my little brother? _

**_What can I say? The last time I got laid was eons ago._ **

_ That doesn’t give you the right to force him to--- _

**_Oh, Dean, please. Sam_ ** **enjoyed** **_it._ **

The older Winchester shakes his head, trying to shove the voices aside. But the memory is too strong; the words just keep on coming.

**_You should have seen the look on his face the first time. The boy was in heaven. Isn’t that right, bunk buddy?_ **

A roar tears itself from Dean’s throat and he slams his fist against the metal wall. An agonizing fire shoots through his arm, but he finds that he likes it, he likes the pain, he likes the feeling of his blood sliding between his fingers.

So he does it again. And again. And again and again and again until Castiel suddenly walks through the door and Dean turns on him, not caring who it is, just that it’s someone, someone he can beat to all hell for what’s happened.

Cas sees the punch coming before Dean can even raise his fist. He ducks easily out of the way and catches him by the arm, but he’s barely got a hold on him before the other man pulls out of his grasp. Uneasy, the angel drops his gaze to the floor, confused as to how to approach the situation.

Sam’s always been the best at this, at comforting people. Cas has found that even the slightest glance of the boy’s cool, green eyes has the power to show someone not only that they are cared for, but that they are loved _. _

What he would give to have that kind of power, angelic abilities be damned.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean looks towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says again. “About all of this.”

“Yeah.” The older Winchester sighs heavily. “So am I.”

The long silence that follows is one that Dean is comfortable with, something he’s always been comfortable with. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he doesn’t like to be forced to talk, that if he wants to get something out, he’ll say it on his own terms, and Sam always respected that.

_ ‘Respects’,  _ he thinks firmly.  _ Not ‘respected’. ‘Respects’.  _

Using past tense is something he won’t allow either of them to use, not now, not ever. 

_ He’s still out there. We just have to find him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: The Blame Game


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys, calm down. Seriously. Calm down.

“You should have told me.”

Dean’s fingers twitch. “Excuse me?”

Cas hesitates. It’s obvious from his reaction that it’s much too soon to be talking about this. “Forgive me. I should not have said anything.”

“Hey.” Dean grins and gestures towards him, but the angel flinches away. The discomfort on Cas’ face would normally worry him but, at this moment, all he feels is the growing need to kick his ass. The winged bastard has chosen to play the goddamn blame game, and he sure as hell isn’t going to get away with it. “Come on, man, I wanna hear it.”

“It would bode well to leave the conversation for another time.”

“Come on, Cas!” His smile is so forced, it’s almost frightening. “Spit it out! Say what you wanna say!”

Lightning flashes above them and Cas lifts his head. Right now it’s only a drizzle, but soon they’ll be caught in a downpour.

“Daddy-o sure knows how to time it, doesn’t he?”

An angry red floods Cas’ cheeks. “Dean….”

“I mean, where was this power an hour ago?” The older Winchester clicks his tongue. “You’d think he’d maybe channel this BS into something more useful.”

“Watch your tone,” Cas warns, voice a bit strained.

“But instead he gives us a goddamn thunderstorm.” Dean looks up as a crack of thunder vibrates through the parking lot. “What an ass.”

“Shut up!” Cas shouts, and Dean takes a step back, startled. Those two words are something he never expected the angel to say, even in a moment of great stress. It’s almost refreshing.

Dean smiles and crosses his arms. “Why?”

“Well, I---” Cas stumbles, suddenly unsure how to defend Him. Dean is right, but this is his _Dad_. He could never bad-mouth Him, not really. He opens his mouth to speak, but Dean cuts him off.

“You think He could’ve helped us? Huh? You think He could’ve saved Sam?”

There is a long moment of silence before the angel speaks again, voice soft. “Yes.”

“Then why the hell didn’t he?!” Dean barks, and an overwhelming shame washes over Cas.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, you don’t know.” Dean scoffs, looking away. That’s good.”

Cas watches him. “I know _I_ would have.”

At those words, the older Winchester’s attention snaps back into place. “Oh really? You think you could’ve--- you think you could’ve helped us?”

The ice in his voice sends a shiver up Cas’ spine. Dean isn’t just angry; he’s out for blood. _His_ blood.

“Ever since you let Rowena steal your mojo, you’ve got crap for powers. So what exactly could you have done, huh? What _exactly_ could you have done?”

“I still could have been of some assistance.”

Dean shakes his head, laughing mirthlessly. “You’re useless, Cas. A goddamn joke.”

The rain is really coming down now, but neither of them seem to notice that their jackets are getting heavier, that water is beginning to fill their shoes.

“Do you know what, Dean?” Cas starts, knowing full well that he is about to cross a major line. "None of this would matter if you hadn’t taken Sam to see Lucifer in the first place.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you kidding me, Cas?

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

Cas stays silent.

“Oh my God.” Dean exhales sharply. “Oh my God, you are.”

“Whether or not you made the error not to consult me, your final decision stands.” The angel takes a step towards him, something that Dean finds hilarious, and just a bit stupid. He should know better than this. “ _You_ were the one who summoned Crowley and Rowena. _You_ were the one who allowed Sam travel through Hell alone. _You_ were the one who was so preoccupied with The Darkness that Sam’s life was put at risk. _You_ were the one who---”

“Who let Sam get taken by Lucifer?” Dean locks his jaw. “You know that’s not true.”

“What I know, _Dean,_ is that none of this would have happened if you had thought all of it through.”

“I _did_ _!_ I _did_ think it through! And I thought it was the stupidest plan we’d ever come up with!”

Cas’ hair is soaked, plastered onto his head. It’s dangerous to be out here right now, but he doesn’t even consider the thought of leaving. “Then why did you do it?”

“It was _Sam’s_ idea!” Dean shouts, voice growing louder by the second. “I tried to talk him out of it, but you know him; do you really think he’d back down when it comes to something he believes is right?”

“You could have restrained him, perhaps locked him in a panic room for the time being.”

 _"Bobby_ was the one with the panic room, and he's  _dead,_ you jackass!”

Cas grimaces at the memory lapse. He shakes his head, backtracking. “Using Lucifer to defeat The Darkness… there had to have been another way.”

“There _was_ no other way!” The older Winchester says, repeating his brother’s persistent cry.

“What about the future Zachariah sent you to, Dean?” He grits his teeth, anger continuing to grow. “You saw Lucifer, and yet you never told me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered!” Dean protests. “We were in the middle of stopping the goddamn apocalypse, and he didn’t say any of that crap would happen for another five years, so I figured we could focus on that _after_ we’d saved the world. Hell,” he laughs humourlessly, “there wouldn’t have been another five years to look _forward_ to if we hadn’t _won_.”

“So it was your belief that, if Sam forced Lucifer back into The Cage, the events you witnessed would not happen.”

Dean scoffs. “How the hell was I supposed to know we’d ever see _Lucifer_ again, that he would ask Sam to _possess_ _him_ again _,_ that Sam would say _“yes”_ again _?”_

“It is not the matter of you thinking it wouldn’t happen,” Cas growls. “It is the matter of you not thinking to tell me.”

“And that would’ve helped.”

“We could have prevented it, Dean! Or, at the very least, been prepared for it!”

Dean’s lip curls into a snarl. “Fine. But that doesn’t make me responsible for---”

“Yes,” Cas hisses, cutting him off, “it does. Lucifer’s possession of Sam? It all comes back to you, Dean. Every bit of it. Five years ago or now, there is no difference. You have allowed Sam to do something detrimental to both the world and himself, and you believe that the events leading up to the possession are not your fault? Sam would be here, Dean, with us, if you had thought all of this through for even five minutes. I have yet to understand why someone like you, someone who cares so much about Sam, could do something so stupid!”

“Alright!” Dean screams. “Alright! Yes, it’s my fault! I could’ve stopped him, I could’ve kept him away from here, I could’ve stayed with him, I could’ve left Rowena and Crowley and Lucifer out of this, I could’ve found another way, and, goddammit, I could’ve saved Sam!”

“Dean---”

“What do you want from me, Cas? An apology?” He rubs forcibly at his eyes, shoving away all signs of weakness. “Fine. Fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this, for getting us into this mess, for releasing The Darkness and setting her loose and letting her kill so many people. I’m sorry for blaming you, for blaming Sam, for hating both of you because all you two have ever wanted to do is help me.”

“Dean, you don’t need to do this.”

“What else _can_ I do? Huh?” He curls his hands into fists. “I’m freakin’ useless, Cas, and you know it!”

Cas sighs, anger beginning to ebb. “You’re not useless, Dean.” He reaches a hand out to comfort him, but the older Winchester quickly pulls back and out of the way.

 _Finally,_ he thinks, and takes a swing at the angel.

Cas catches Dean by the wrist, eyes beginning to glow. “Dean,” he says quietly. “Please stop.”

With a roar, Dean sends his other fist towards him, but the angel knocks it aside and swiftly wraps him up in a bear hug.

Dean tries to fight him, arms swinging, fists pounding against the angel’s chest, but Cas just holds him close, murmuring in his ear, whispering, “Everything is going to be alright, Dean. Just hold on. Everything is going to be alright.”

And that’s the moment Dean breaks down, crying as he grips Cas’ body tightly, nails digging into his skin. He presses his face into the angel’s shoulder, and between the sobs Cas can hear him cry out Sam’s name over and over and over again.

They stand there for almost an hour, two broken things, one relying completely on the other’s support, neither caring as the rain pours down on them.

“We’re going to find him, Dean,” Cas says quietly.

The older Winchester shakes in his arms, his little brother’s name muffled by the angel’s coat.

Cas closes his eyes and holds him even tighter. “We’re going to find him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look: consensual sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean's fake names always refer to real people. Ten points if you can figure out who they're referring to here.  
> \-------------  
> I have finals this week and the next, so I'll be putting up a new update after they're over.

The last thing Sam recognizes before breaking through the waves of the vision is the faint taste of strawberries. 

_ Dean _

Barely six months ago, when the two brothers were investigating what they believed to be an Amara sighting, they posed as a couple. Sam had been hoping to play such a role for a long time, but he never said anything for fear of Dean’s reaction. So it was a surprise - to say the least - when the older Winchester was the one to suggest it. 

Through most of the case, Sam did his best to keep his distance. Holding hands? Okay. A peck on the cheek? Fine. But there was almost an unspoken agreement between the two of them that the lips were off-limits. Sam suspected that it was because Dean would be severely uncomfortable kissing another man, let alone his brother. As for Sam, it was due to the fact that he’d not had a real kiss since before his time in The Cage. Even when he had the one night stand with that waitress in the back of the Impala, he had avoided her mouth. 

She didn’t seem to mind all that much.

It wasn’t even that Sam wanted to share his first kiss with a “special someone”. It was that anytime his lips came near those of another, his mouth filled with the taste of Lucifer’s blood. The metallic flavour was one he had become accustomed to while in The Cage and, oddly enough, it had calmed him. The blood was from Lucifer biting his own lip in a fit of ecstasy, a sign that he was nearly finished with his boy, that in a few moments he would shove him to the opposite side of The Cage and watch him tuck his knees against his chest and cry softly as the archangel rode out the rest of his orgasm. The few sacred minutes after the blood filled Sam’s mouth made up the only moments of peace he was allowed. And so strengthened the association.

After Sam’s soul was returned, however, and Castiel tore down his wall, the only thing the angel’s blood did was make him nauseous. He couldn’t begin to count how many times he spent bent over his toilet, or emptying his stomach on the side of the highway while a concerned Dean watched from inside the Impala. 

One night, after a particularly terrifying nightmare, Sam woke with a strangled scream and immediately threw up all over the bed. Hearing his cry, Dean rushed into the room. The younger Winchester figured that the moment he saw the mess, Dean would throw him a look of disgust and go back to sleep. Instead, Dean helped him out of the covers and into a new pair of pajamas before walking the boy into his own room and tucking him into his own bed. He stayed by Sam’s side until he fell asleep, then went and cleaned it all up, washing and spraying everything, even flipping the mattress. The next morning, after he was sure Sam had calmed down, Dean asked him gently what was going on. But Sam didn’t offer a reply; he just downed two cups of coffee and took a third back to Dean’s room. The event remained unaddressed for a long time; it was only brought back up on their third day disguised as happily married couple Dave and Robert Jones. 

Having come to the conclusion that Amara had vanished just before they got to town, Dean was in a foul mood. Sam sat at a small table near the window, absentmindedly scrolling through news articles as he watched his older brother pace. After about fifteen minutes, Sam sighed heavily and got to his feet. “Dean?” He called, but he was ignored. Irritation flitted across his face as he moved closer. 

A major lack of sleep and anger at losing Amara weighed him down as well, but at least he wasn’t allowing it to turn him into an ass. He reached out to grab his brother by the arm, but Dean had been ready for him. 

Knocking Sam’s hand aside, he took the younger boy by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall.

“Dean!” Sam burst out, panic morphing the name into an unintelligible screech.

A growl rumbled in the back of the older Winchester’s throat, and it looked for a moment like he was going break Sam’s jaw.

“Please.”

For the first time, Dean recognized the fear in his little brother’s eyes. With a quick “sorry”, he relaxed his grip, but for some reason he didn’t move away.

Sam swallowed hard, chest tightening as he watched Dean’s gaze flick down to his lips. He was going to kiss him. Dean--- no, his brother--- no, Dean,  _ Dean _ was going to kiss him. “Dean,” he murmured for the umpteenth time, but he’d barely gotten the name out when suddenly their lips were pressed together, and they were kissing,  _ God _ , they were  _ kissing. _

Getting no visible response, Dean pulled away. “Sammy---”

“Shut up,” Sam said and, taking his brother’s face in his hands, brought the two of them back together. 

“Are you sure---” Dean tried again, but Sam was quick to reply: “God, Dean, would you just shut up?”

Dean smiled against the curve of his lips. “Make me.”

And, to his great surprise, Sam did.

About an hour later, both men lay on the ratty motel-room bed, completely naked and covered in sweat. Another thirty minutes passed with them in complete silence, neither of them speaking because, honestly, what the hell could they say? They had committed a major taboo; granted, it had been a long time coming, but it was a taboo all the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam staring up at the ceiling. He licked his lips. Someone had to break the ice, to get them up and moving again. And if Sam wasn’t going to do it... Dean cleared his throat.

“Do you wear lip gloss?” Sam asked suddenly.

Dean turned three shades of red.

The younger Winchester looked over at him and, taking in his brother’s embarrassment, added,  _ “Strawberry _ lip gloss?” 

When Dean didn’t respond, Sam laughed.

And, for the first time in years, he actually felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't see the notes at the top, I have finals this week and the next, so I'll be putting up a new update after they're over.


End file.
